The things you tell people about themselves
by driggs
Summary: In the same vein as "As long as you don't end up alone." But this time Shawn flavored. A linear sequence of song-inspired one-shots. The undulations of a relationship; beginning to end to beginning again. Shawn/Lassiter
1. Beach House

**Beach House**

_What you want is just outside your reach_  
_You keep on searchin'_  
_You're walking down that Pensacola beach_  
_You keep repeatin'_

He hadn't been in Florida very long. He didn't really want to stay there very long either. While he liked the sunny beaches of California, there was something different and odd about Florida. Or maybe it was just because he was on the Gulf. Or the sherbet-colored houses that all looked vaguely alike. Floridians really liked their pastels. Maybe as much as they liked cookie-cutter uniformity.

This beach was thousands of miles away from Santa Barbara. Somehow it wasn't far enough, though. Shawn felt like he could be on the opposite side of the world from Santa Barbara and still not be far away enough. He'd have to look into where the opposite side of the world from California was. Something told him it was probably in an ocean somewhere. Gus would probably know. He always knew dumb facts like that.

And then he thought about what Henry had said. About how he always ran and never actually confronted his problems. Probably a byproduct of his father's denial and his mother's wanderlust. Not the greatest combination of qualities to inherit.

It was almost funny how well he handled rejection. He liked rejection, really. But there was something about reciprocation that he couldn't stand. And not even just plain old liking someone else, but that sort of aching feeling you got when you really thought this could be something good, something real.

This sucked.

Because he knew he'd blown it. He always knew when something big presented itself to him that there was a risk of blowing it. And this time…this time really took the cake. It took the whole damn bakery.

Maybe he could just stick a message in a bottle and hope the currents would take it where it needed to go. That would probably be easier than what he'd have to do to gain back trust now. It might take less time, too.

No, if he wanted to regain trust, it had to be in person. Which meant he had to get the hell out of Florida. And he was more than happy to do that.


	2. Seaweed Song

**Seaweed Song**

_Nobody knows you the way you know you  
But I think I do  
But I thought I knew_

He'd blown it.

And not like, 'man, he's going to be pissed later,' but more like 'oh god I hope he doesn't shoot me the next time he sees me.'

Shawn considered the possibilities of skipping town, but gas prices had just gone up and his bike hadn't had maintenance repairs done on it in years (had he ever taken it into the shop after hearing that odd rattle?) and none of that even mattered really because he'd totally, completely blown it.

To be fair, it was all a big misunderstanding. But if there was someone more stubborn than him, it was Lassiter. The combination of stubbornness and a gun was a dangerous one, Shawn figured. Which was probably why Lassiter's record of discharging his weapon (and oh how he wanted to think of the innuendo there) was higher than any other officer in the precinct.

Shit. _Shit._

Shawn was very perceptive about personalities. It came from his dad's insistence on training him to be super cop (the cop who can't be stopped) and his mom's habit of psychoanalyzing him. So telling people about themselves was just sort of something he did, whether he was asked to or not. Which was the problem, because Lassiter definitely didn't want to be told the kind of person he was. And it really wasn't even a negative perspective. Lassiter wasn't all storm clouds and spiders. Just like Shawn wasn't just pineapple pops and sparkles.

It was bad enough he'd had to pry Lassiter almost completely open to even get the man to admit what was going on with their relationship. But they'd been doing whatever it was that they'd been doing for way too long and they both used each other's first names far too often for it to be a fling or whatever it was Lassiter thought Shawn wanted it to be.

But to tell Lassiter about himself--all the things he was probably trying to deny about himself, no less--that had to be one of the stupidest things he'd ever done. And that was for a guy who once thought starting a roadside flea circus was a good idea. He'd meant it to be sort of a romantic thing, like: oh hey Lassiter, I like you so much that I've bothered to take notice of all of these interesting things about you. Which of course Lassiter took as: I obviously don't want to be in a relationship with you and here are all your flaws.

How the hell did he fix this?


	3. Electric Feel

**Electric Feel**

_All along the eastern shore_  
_Put your circuits in the sea_  
_This is what the world is for_  
_Making electricity_

There was something about the feel of a man that was so electrifying sometimes Shawn couldn't hold in his excitement. Yeah, he liked women too. He liked their smooth curves, how things were soft and oddly perfumed and meticulously groomed. He appreciated how women took the time to impress, even the ones that weren't as into maintenance as others.

But a man was completely different because there were sharp angles and the scratch of hair and more strength than you ever expected. Men were rougher, they tasted worse (especially after drinks) and the smell was an odd mix of reassuring and frightening.

That was maybe the most exciting thing about men. You were trying to do something very tender and intimate with someone that could straight up knock you out if they wanted to. Maybe it was that primal fear that really got him off.

This man tasted like scotch. He smelt of sweat and stale aftershave and his hair was crisp with gel. Not that Shawn's wasn't. And not that he'd never run his hands through a woman's hair and had them come back sticky with product. But the fact that the graying black hair had left a residue was surprising to him for some reason.

He smiled. The man's tie came off. The buttons on his shirt undone quickly, fingers fumbling over each other as they greedily tried to get it off as soon as possible. Pale flesh, chest hair. A mole just above the collar bone (the perfect place to bite, Shawn thought to himself, and followed through on that thought with a terse nip). There was a wiry strength to this man's frame; lanky but solid.

Shawn moved lower, his hands trailing downwards with him. The button on the pants was undone, the zipper unzipped. Shawn could feel the heat radiating off the other man and the beads of perspiration forming on his skin. Shawn looked up at Lassiter's face. The detective looked very frustrated. Which really wasn't anything new.

"Jesus Christ," Lassiter moaned, his breathing hitched. "You are so goddamned annoying."

Shawn's lips parted slightly as a grin spread over his face. While he enjoyed working Lassiter up like this, he had more work to do.


	4. Horchata

**Horchata**

_Here comes a feeling you thought you'd forgotten  
Chairs to sit and sidewalks to walk on  
Oh you had it but oh no you lost it  
You understood so you shouldn't have fought it_

Lassiter opened his front door and glared at Shawn.

Shawn held up the large brown paper bag in his hand. "Dinner?"

Lassiter began to shut the door, but Shawn stuck his arm out. If he'd wanted to, Lassiter could've closed it. But he barely put up a fight.

"I know you want to know what's in the bag."

Lassiter sighed and slouched slightly. "I don't care."

Shawn cocked his head to the side and started wafting the smell over towards Lassiter with his hand. "I'll give you a hint. It's _caliente_."

"I'm really not in the mood for this, Spencer," Lassiter replied, looking almost everywhere but at Shawn.

So that's how it was. So quickly he was relegated back to the realm of the last name. He didn't want to admit it, but that hurt more than anything. Because it meant that he really didn't mean much to the other man anymore. Maybe it was time to cut his losses. Lassiter wasn't the only one with feelings.

"Fine," Shawn said finally, hoping Lassiter would finally look him in the eyes.

But of course he didn't.

Shawn walked away, slightly comforted by the fact that he wasn't the only person who let the big things slip out of his grasp.

He realized later that night though, after suffering the burrito-induced indigestion, that it hadn't really been all that much of a comfort at all.


	5. Take Care

**Take Care**

_Deep inside the ever-spinning, tell me does it feel  
It's no good unless it's real, hillsides burning  
Wild-eyed turning till we're running from it_

"I'd take care of you," Shawn whispered. He wasn't sure if Lassiter heard him. He wasn't even sure if the other man was awake. Mornings were meant for soft declarations. When they weren't made for devious waking up activities. "If you asked me to."

Lassiter rolled over towards him, yawning. Shawn took the opportunity to snuggle in closer, breathing against the other man's neck.

"What'd you say?" Lassiter mumbled, his eyes cracking open lazily. He smiled and yawned again.

"You've got the day off, just go back to sleep," Shawn replied, running his hand along Lassiter's side, dipping dangerously beneath the covers.

Lassiter's eyes closed briefly, his smile lingering. "I don't think you want me to go back to sleep."

Shawn chuckled. "You'd think you were the psychic or something."

At this, Lassiter frowned and opened his eyes.

Shawn quickly backtracked. "I'm sorry."

Lassiter's face softened. "I'd rather you not joke about that anymore."

Shawn understood. And really, Lassiter had taken the admission of his whole faux-psychic thing really well considering. Though he figured the fact that he'd worked Lassiter into a smiling puddle of goo before the chat where he admitted to being a fake had something to do with that initial lack of reaction. Any time Shawn had casually alluded to his time spent tricking the police department, Lassiter would stiffen. And not in the good way.

Shawn grabbed Lassiter's hair (he'd grown it out at Shawn's request, though Shawn was definitely getting jealous of just how good his hair was starting to look all grown out) and pulled him closer, crashing into his lips, boldly exploring with his tongue as Lassiter slowly reciprocated. Their stubbled jaws rasped against each other, something Shawn had to admit he enjoyed a lot. Better than an exfoliating loofah.

Pushing Lassiter onto his back, Shawn rolled over on top of him. As Lassiter's hands started to move up Shawn's legs, taking their sweet time, Shawn grabbed him by the wrists and held his hands by his head. At this, Lassiter grinned. For as much as he liked playing bad cop (oh, and as much as Shawn enjoyed it too), he also enjoyed Shawn's assertion of dominance. Not that either of them went to extremes, but this was like a physical manifestation of their caustic verbal banter when they interacted outside of the house.

Shawn leaned over, playfully licking and biting a trail along Lassiter's chest, going lower and lower until he was painfully, achingly close to the stirrings of Lassiter's morning erection. Lassiter's fists balled up in frustration, willing Shawn to quit playing around. But of course Shawn was always a tease. In the end, he was always worth it too.

That morning at least, he made sure he was completely worth every single nanosecond of frustration he put Lassiter through.

----

"Shawn, I'm fine," Lassiter grumbled, the congestion warping his voice.

Shawn smirked and placed the back of his hand against Lassiter's forehead. "Seriously? You're totally burning up, Carlyface."

Lassiter grimaced at Shawn's attempt at a term of endearment and rolled away from his touch. "Fine, I'll stay home. But you should go."

Shawn sat down on the edge of the bed and gently coaxed Lassiter to roll back over to face him. Lassiter was surprised at the hurt he saw there.

"I…I don't want you to get sick," Lassiter said finally.

"I'll drink a bunch of orange juice and stock up on the Zicam," Shawn replied, leaning back in the bed so he could show just how resolved he was to stay put. Upon seeing the other man's look of concern, Shawn smiled. "Seriously. You deserve to be taken care of every once in awhile."

"You can't even take care of a cactus," Lassiter replied, coughing slightly.

"Colonel Prickly Pants doesn't count," Shawn pouted. "That cactus was on its deathbed when I got it. I just didn't want it to die alone."

"Everything dies alone," Lassiter replied, closing his eyes and pulling the comforter tighter against his chest.

Shawn reached his hand out and placed it on the side of the other man's face. It was warm and sweaty, paler than usual, with the dark shadow of stubble scratching against his palm. "Oh Carlton. It's too early in the day to be so maudlin."

Lassiter looked over and opened his eyes again. "Yeah, but even if it were nighttime, it'd still be too early in the day for you."

"You're either making fun of my winning personality or my odd sleeping habits," Shawn replied, wrapping himself around the fevered detective. Lassiter welcomed the embrace weakly, an arm lazily resting against Shawn's back.

"I'm sorry," Lassiter whispered, as Shawn's face was incredibly close to his.

Shawn grinned. "You must be sick if you're apologizing for something."

Lassiter merely grumbled and closed his eyes again. "Ok. You can take care of me."

Now Shawn's smile threatened to crack his face into pieces.

"Get that dumb grin off your face," Lassiter frowned, not opening his eyes.

Shawn fought to keep a straight face as Lassiter's eyes opened slightly. "But I have to have a serious face while I do it?"

"Shawn," Lassiter warned, opening his eyes further.

Shawn sighed and rubbed Lassiter's chest. "C'mon. It's not going to kill you to not be Mr. Gumpy Face for one day. And you're not even going to leave the bedroom, so it's not like someone's going to see you."

"I'm not being Mr. Grumpy Face," Lassiter replied, rolling his eyes at the fact he'd actually just said that aloud.

"I promise, I don't have a webcam taping us or anything."

"Shawn," Lassiter groaned, rolling away from the younger man and taking his arm with him.

Shawn wasn't someone who gave up a fight so easily, though. He rolled over and hopped over Lassiter's side so that he was now laying right in front of the older man, their noses nearly touching.

"You are incorrigible," Lassiter said.

Shawn smirked and closed the distance between their noses. He wouldn't kiss Lassiter, for fear of a germ-induced hissy fit on the other man's behalf. Even though they were sharing plenty of germs and microbes and bacteria as it was just laying there. Shawn noticed Lassiter's eyes crinkle as he allowed himself a small smile.

"You're secretly enjoying this, aren't you?" Shawn asked, putting his arm around Lassiter and rubbing his back. Lassiter's eyes closed again and his breathing evened out. They lay there for awhile, Shawn almost certain that the older man had finally fallen back asleep.

Finally, Lassiter swallowed. With a whisper he said, "I guess it doesn't have to be a secret."

And Shawn smiled.

* * *

**a/n:** and here's the end of the companion piece to "As Long As You Don't End Up There Alone." As for the songs used here:

"Beach House" by Real Estate

"Seaweed Song" by Passion Pit

"Electric Feel" by MGMT

"Horchata" by Vampire Weekend

"Take Care" by Beach House


End file.
